


A little bit of everything [Joxkin one-shots]

by careforacuppatea



Series: Joxkin one-shots [1]
Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 新ムーミン | Shin Moomin (Anime 1972), 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Father/Son Incest, Incest, M/M, One Shot, Parent/Child Incest, Short One Shot, Suggestive Themes, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt, one shots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-05-12 05:57:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19223026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/careforacuppatea/pseuds/careforacuppatea
Summary: Sometimes a family is a Joxter and Snufkin, fucking like wild animals. Very short one-shots, usually NSFW/Lemon.





	1. Praise kink and kisses along the cock

**Author's Note:**

> Snufkin is at least 16 and at most 18/19.  
> Was asked to post these in case something happens to my Tumblr. Updates vary, as I'm also working on full length fanfics too.

 

“That’s right, be the good little boy I know you can be,” Joxter hisses as Snufkin slowly takes his whole cock into his mouth, breathing out a curse as he can practically feel the head of his cock hitting the back of his son’s throat. “That’s right, you’re such a good little boy, my perfect boy,” Joxter praises are heady and got Snufkin keening and making muffle noises as he slurped and rolled his tongue about his father’s fat cock, tears rolling down the side of his face as the burning sensation of needing to breathe properly nagged at him. 

But he couldn’t care, not when Joxter is petting his hair, caressing and gently wiping away the tears with the pad of his thumb– bringing the hand up to lick the salty liquid. Snufkin whimpered, as all he wanted to do was hear more of the sweet words of approval and love coming from his father again, and so he went back to rocking his head, swallowing and constricting his throat around his father’s dick. 

Snufkin’s ears burned with the sound of Joxter groaning out his name, whispering  _my good boy_ as he came hard down the young man’s throat.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Snufkin was strange, in every way possible, to Joxter. Especially during their times of intimacy– well, sex to Joxter, but it seemed Snufkin was after something  _more_  than just primal sex. 

The boy, when moving down Joxter’s body to give the man a good fuck with his mouth, had started doing the queerest thing– he’d began gently kissing Joxter’s lower abdomen, following the Mumrik’s dark trail of hair leading to his groin. Snufkin would then nuzzle his nose into Joxter’s pubic area, taking an obvious intake of air through his nose, as if deeply smelling Joxter intimately, and then releasing a breath of content, before moving right down to face the Mumrik’s cock.

And then, Snufkin would take Joxter’s cock into his hand, and gently bring it to his lips, where he gave the flushed head a teasing kiss, then moving to the underside, the most sensitive, and giving a gentle kiss there, before mouthing at it. 

Joxter, while a bit perturbed by this new behavior, couldn’t help but watch in fascination and curiosity, as the boy placed butterfly kisses up and down his cock, before finally opening his mouth to tongue and mouth and push his head down to intake his father’s cock til it hit the back of his throat. 

Soon it no longer became a rather unusual thing for Joxter to watch as his son peppered his cock with kisses, a look of absolute affection and fondness on his face. Not only did it only make his dick strain, pre-cum dribbling from the slit in anticipation, but Joxter couldn’t help but think, as he met eyes with his son as Snufkin gave one last kiss to the tip of his cock, before engulfing it with his sinfully hot mouth– everything this boy did was  _cute_.

 

 


	2. Force to deep throat, then some comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snufkin is at least 16 and at most 18/19.  
> Was asked to post these in case something happens to my Tumblr. Updates vary, as I'm also working on full length fanfics too.

Cool, purple toned smoke swirled around the Joxter’s hat and to the ceiling as the old Mumrik puffed away at his old wooden pipe. The sound of fire crackled besides him, and obscene noises came below as his son slurped and sucked around his dick, humming as he swirled his tongue around the flushed, fat head. 

Joxter was in a rather unnecessarily mean mood today, and so Snufkin, like the good little boy he is, decided to get down on his already bruised knees, to give his father the most filthy and wet blowjob to try and ease his father into a much more pleasant mood. 

While Joxter did enjoy the view of his son, mouth full of his thick cock, drool glistening around and down Snufkin’s chin– it’s when the boy made the bad decision to gaze up through long, black eyelashes, eyes hazy and teary, that Joxter got the most wicked desire. 

Smiling around his pipe, the Joxter reached down to brush gently at Snufkin’s cheek, then moving his hand to run through the soft brown hair. Snufkin let out a muffled whimper, eyes fluttering closed and face flushing a deeper red, happy for the sweet attention his father graciously was showing him. 

Joxter’s smile only looked crooked as his cerulean eyes flashed with something deadly, and the hand in Snufkin’s hair became rough as it grabbed almost painfully at the boy’s hair and forced the boy forward in a quick snap. Snufkin let out a muffled cry of shock and pain as he was forced to deep throat his father’s cock, swallowing it down as his nose was basically nuzzling into his father’s pubic hair. 

Snufkin began to cough and struggle, squirming as he fought to take the cock so deeply in his mouth, it was hitting the back of his throat and was even tilting and threatening to go down a bit. Snufkin breathed hard through his nose, loudly gagging and gurgling as more spit dribbled down his chin, snot leaking from his nose and tears fully running down his cheeks as he choked on his father’s dick. 

Joxter kept his forceful hold on Snufkin’s hair, ignoring how his son struggled and cried out, how the hands on Joxter’s thighs were now digging and clawing at him through his pants. 

Joxter simply let out a hum of content as he leaned back a bit in his seat, eyes half-lidded; taking a long drag from his pipe, he used his other hand to remove the pipe, and like a lazy and blissful dragon, breathed plums of purple-grey smoke from his nose and mouth, groaning as he did. 

The sound and feeling of his son  _choking_ and  _gagging_  on his cock did indeed lighten his mood.

 

* * *

 

After Joxter came _~~hard~~_ , he had finally released Snufkin, who pushed himself away and back onto his knees as he coughed and retched. Joxter busied himself with fixing up his pants and dumping the remnants of his tobacco from his pipe into a metal spittoon by the fireplace, before even paying notice to his son. Snufkin was a mess, a _beautiful mess_  in Joxter’s opinion, with his hair all astray, cheeks flushed a violent red and stained with tears, the gleam of spittle all over around his mouth and chin, illuminated warmly by the crackling fire besides them; but when the two made eye contact, it felt as if a pit was forming in the bowels of Joxter’s gut.

Snufkin’s eyes were lined red, pitifully glowering up at his father as he continued to retch and breathe in and out violently– and Joxter noticed as he continued to study his son that the boy was shivering. Snufkin averted his eyes as he started coughing again, a new wave of tears prickling at the edge of his eyes as it hurt to swallow, and cough as his jaw was also sore from the position it had been forced in.

Snufkin flinched as he heard his father get up, not daring to look, listening as it sounded as if his father had quietly left the den– left Snufkin alone, in the den. Now Snufkin was crying, a whimper he forced down as tears streamed down his cheeks and nose, clenching his teeth and ignoring the pain of his jaw just so he could prevent the wails of feeling deeply hurt that his father would just leave him like this, shivering and already feeling used. He must have failed his father, perhaps by being such a baby about what his father had done to him– but he couldn’t help it, it threw him off entirely.

It was then Snufkin heard the soft footfalls of someone coming back towards and inside the den– his father. Snufkin wanted to hide, wanted to curl into himself for letting Joxter see him like this, a frail, _weak_  child. Head tilted down, he closed his eyes shut as he felt Joxter’s presence right in front of him, hating the way his body shook with each deep cry he wanted to let out. 

“Come here,” Joxter’s voice, low and gentle, startled Snufkin, but he was too frozen to move, to afraid that if he did, he’d completely break. Joxter waited for a secondly, and when Snufkin didn’t respond, instead of getting irritated and impatient, the old Mumrik moved and took grasp of his shivering son; while Snufkin was unsure of what his father was doing, he allowed the Mumrik to situate the two where Snufkin was laying in Joxter’s lap, the man sitting cross-legged. 

Joxter then produced a dark brown rag [probably made from old discarded clothes] and bringing it up to Snufkin’s face, began to gently clean him up, wiping away the spittle and residue of cum around the boy’s mouth and pink lips. Snufkin slowly opened his eyes, swallow and red, surprised to find the rag very warm, and Joxter’s actions so kind and soft. Snufkin watched unabashedly his father’s face as he worked, a look of concentration etched onto his face, lips turned down in a tight-lipped frown.

When Joxter got to Snufkin’s cheeks, wiping away the tear stains and any new falling tears, his blue eyes flickered to soft brown eyes– and quickly, the Joxter’s face softened, his blue eyes losing their icy layer as they gazed almost lovingly into Snufkin’s. 

Snufkin couldn’t stop himself, the dam broke and he allowed himself to cry– gasping as big tears rolled down his cheeks once more. Joxter dropped the rag and wrapped his arms around his son’s smaller frame, pulling the boy into his chest, arms secure and strong as they held them. “I’m so- _so_  sorry papa, I’m s-so  _sorry_ ,” Snufkin cried, gasping between words as he grasped his father’s shirt with both hands and nuzzled his face into the Joxter’s chest. 

Joxter just began to hush Snufkin, rocking gently and moving his arms so he could massage his sons back in reassuring circles. “ _I love you_  papa, I’m sorry!” Snufkin whined out, muffled slightly by him pushing and nuzzling into Joxter’s chest. The Joxter froze, taking in exactly what Snufkin said, before continuing his rocking and rubbing and hushing. Joxter dipped his head down so that he could softly nuzzle at the wild brown hair, and kiss the side of Snufkin’s temple, and with as much affection Joxter believed he had, he whispered, “I love you too, my Snufkin.” 

Snufkin let out a whimper at that as his cries were now softer, him no longer gasping but hiccuping, breathing a bit more normally now. “ _Hush now_ ,” Joxter gave another feathery kiss to Snufkin’s temple, before sitting back up straight again, rocking gently, coddling his son by the crackling fire

 


	3. Domestic Joxkin [kits are born]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snufkin has finally given birth to the kits to which Joxter has fathered, and after Moominmamma comes out, giving Joxter the permission to finally go into the den, Joxter wastes no time to go and see his son and offspring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snufkin is at least 16 while at most 18/19.  
> Reference imagine to what my joxkin kits look like, though when a bit older, can be found at the bottom.

It had maybe been a month since Snufkin had given birth to a brood of kits, that of which Joxter was the father of. He remembered so vividly, Moominmamma finally stepping out of the den room which Joxter and his son shared—tired, dabbing sweat from her forehead with a clean rag of her own. Joxter noted the dark blood some on her once white apron, and white paws painted with the same red. Mama didn’t seem to notice, and simply smiled, giving Joxter the go ahead; so without a second though, the old Mumrik rushed past her and into the den.

Although obviously nervous, the man felt as if his chest was also going to burst from excitement. While not much for mannerisms in any moment, Joxter couldn’t help but remove his hat—bright, curious eyes finding and landing on the figure, lying motionless in the bed of fine furs. It was Snufkin, small, gentle, _sweet_ Snufkin, laying somewhat on his side, one arm tucked under the pillow, while the other rested atop the blanket of fur.

Stopping just a few inches from the bedsides edge, Joxter studied and took in as much as he could of Snufkin-- any exposed skin, now pallid, was covered in a sheen of sweat, and his soft brown hair was like a crown of tangled locks. Fiddling anxiously with the rim of his hat, worrying at his bottom lip with his sharp teeth, Joxter couldn’t stop the hard lump forming in his throat as his keen ears picked up the shallow, slightly raspy breathing coming from the young man before him; Joxter had never seen Snufkin this exhausted looking, this fragile. Before he could stop himself, Joxter reached out, and as gentle as he could ever be, caressed the pads of his fingers against Snufkin’s forehead, brushing the matted hair from the boy’s damp forehead.

Snufkin was very warm to the touch, and as expected, while faint, Joxter’s cool fingertips caused the boy to knit his brows together, sucked in air, groaning as he began to stir. Quickly, Joxter withdrew his hand and brought it back to nervously grip the brim of his hat alongside the other—while two, bright cerulean eyes watched intensely as Snufkin worked on opening his eyes, wincing from even the soft light coming from the crudely built window on the opposite side of the bed.

Slowly, Snufkin’s eyes opened, and quickly Joxter noticed they were slightly red—probably due to the crying Joxter had _tried_ blocking out as he was forced to wait outside, since Moominmamma couldn’t handle both.

Snufkin’s eyes finally focused after a few more seconds of blinking and allowing his eyes to readjust—and when he looked up and saw that it was Joxter standing over him, his tired eyes seemed to brighten instantly. A smile broke across the boys’ face, and reaching with his free hand out towards Joxter, whispered, “ _Papa_.” How soft the word came from those lips, so fragile and so _young_ Snufkin sounded in that moment—instantly, Joxter discarded his hat without a care and leaning forward, wrapped his arms haphazardly around his son. Snufkin managed to wrap his one arm under so that a small hand found itself gripping, with as much strength as he could muster, the back of Joxter’s coat—the two were so wrapped up in each other, breathing in each other’s scent, nuzzling and leaving faint kisses to where they could reach while embracing still.

While neither wanted to separate, Joxter leaned back just putting a little bit of distance between their two faces; unwinding his arms from Snufkin, he brought his large paws up to cup both sides of Snufkin’s face, turning it this way and that, before simply stopping to gaze down into Snufkin’s doe brown eyes. “Are you alright?”

For a moment, Snufkin wasn’t entirely sure if he could answer, not because he wasn’t exactly okay, but because of how deep Joxter’s eyes appeared, deep and bright with love and adoration—all for Snufkin. It was almost too much, not to mention the soft caress from Joxter’s thumbs against Snufkin’s cheeks—he felt as if he might cry again. Swallowing hard and licking his lips, Snufkin got himself to slightly nod, smiling as Joxter breathed out a sigh of relief, then leaned to give a soft kiss to those sweet lips.

 Rather chaste, Joxter pulled back, paws still holding Snufkin’s cheeks, the older man’s eyebrows furrowed as he asked, “And…” Joxter licked his lips, eyes wide and searching, “The kits?”

Expression softening, Snufkin turned his head so that he could kiss the palm of one of Joxter’s hands, and then began to wiggle and squirm. Joxter removed his hands, though they hovered in case Snufkin needed help as he watched the boy bring himself to rest on the forearm that was placed under the pillow. Groaning, and letting out an annoyed sigh—and before Joxter could scold his son for not being gentle with himself, Snufkin looked up at Joxter and placed a slender finger to his lips, signaling to be quiet. Joxter gave a flat expression to this, but trying his best to behave, he said nothing—instead, he dropped his eyes down to the fur blanket, as Snufkin used his free hand to grasp it, and gently, slowly, raised it up and brought it back.

Hiding under that blanket, were six, very tiny, sleeping kits—all in a little pile, pressed close to Snufkin’s stomach. At first, Joxter didn’t react much, other than leaning over a bit more, placing his hands at the edge of the bed to keep himself balanced; the old Mumrik turned his head slightly, ears pinned forward as little whimpers came from a couple of the kits, who nuzzled closer to their sibling as cool air invaded their warmth once the blanket had been removed.

Six, six little kits, with fuzzy hair, the smallest of tails—finally, Joxter brought one hand over, about to touch one. Though he stopped just a few inches from one of the kits, and glancing up at Snufkin, who met his gaze, and with a quiet voice, asked, “May I?”

Snufkin couldn’t stop the look of surprise—Joxter, asking permission to do something? Well, there’s always a first time for everything, even for Mumriks like his father. Giving his head a shake, Snufkin smiled and let out a soft laugh, releasing hold of the blanket and bringing his hand to caress the side of Joxter’s face. “Of course, they are _yours_ too, you know.” Joxter rolled his eyes when Snufkin gave a pinch to Joxter’s cheek before withdrawing it back to rest on his side, expression soft, playful— _excited_. Excited because, truth be told, Snufkin wasn’t entirely sure how Joxter would respond to seeing his kits. Sure, Snufkin reasoned, Joxter had been surprisingly happy when Snufkin broke the news, and throughout the entire pregnancy had stuck around; well, he did leave, but only for a day or two, and that was pretty good for a Joxter.

Now, watching as Joxter brought his pointer finger down towards one of the kits paws, hand noticeably shaking now and then, and ever so gently, pressed the pad of it against the little paw. Joxter had carefully laid himself down now, on his knees, leaning against the side of the bed, the old Mumrik brought the other arm over to rest his chin on; he watched, with curious eyes, the little paw flinch, then flex around the rather large finger. Snufkin’s brown eyes flickered to look at Joxter’s face, and while his face gave no emotion still, Snufkin swore he caught a glimmer in those cerulean eyes.

Joxter pulled his hand away, moving it to the head of the same kit—a little boy, perhaps? With thick, black hair, and edging closer, Joxter could see very light brown markings, sprawled across its face like freckles. Delicately petting the top of the little kits head, and it was so feathery soft—and while Joxter petted the kit once more, the little thing reacted by stretching out a bit and mewling.

Finally, something broke inside Joxter—a smile that truly reached his eyes, making his whole visage was tender and awfully sweet. When Joxter looked up and saw a misty-eyed Snufkin staring back down at him, cheeks flushed with color, and his messy hair the color of auburn from the light outlining him from behind—in that moment, to Joxter, Snufkin was the sun to his _whole_ world. Looking back down, giving one last pet to the kit, Joxter thought, _this_ , **_this_** was his whole world, and Snufkin went through Hell to give it to him.

Carefully, Joxter moved his hands under him so he could lean up and forward towards Snufkin, making it obvious what he wanted, and Snufkin seemed to want the exact thing—Snufkin leaned forward as much as he could, and let out a happy sigh when Joxter’s lips met his.

Sadly, their kiss was interrupted by the sound of rapping against wood; Joxter and Snufkin turned their attention towards the doorway, where Moominmamma stood. “Just wanted to check in on both of you,” Mama spoke, her voice gentle and lovely as always. “I assume you’re both doing alright—especially you, Snufkin?”

Joxter turned to glance at his boy, who gave a nod and replied with, “I’m fine, just tired.” When Joxter turned his head to look at Mama again, she seemed to accept that answer, giving a gentle nod. “I expect such after what you’ve gone through today, my dear,” Mama said. Joxter noticed how her hands no longer were covered in blood, white fur surprisingly unstained—though her apron still bore deep, browning red.

“Joxter.” It wasn’t the sound of Mama speaking, but the tone of her voice, that got Joxter to meet her gaze. While her expression was still soft, a sternness only a mother could give was in her eyes—but Joxter never really knew his mother, so perhaps he was just humoring her authority. “Take care of him, make sure he rests.”

Joxter, holding Moominmamma’s intense gaze, nodded, believing such a request needed a verbal response since he was already planning on both babying his kits and Snufkin. The Moomin held his gaze for a hot second, but it seemed she was happy with just what Joxter gave her. Mama’s eyes softened, and letting out a heavy exhale, mama then smiled at the two and said, “I’ll be back tomorrow to check up.” With that, she bid them goodbye, Snufkin being the only one to return it.

When the sound of the front door swinging open, then shut, Joxter turned his head to face Snufkin once more. Snufkin did the same, a small smile forming, and suddenly, the boy was scooting himself away from Joxter, gently trying to move the kits with him. Before Joxter could question or stop Snufkin, the young man said, “Come on, come join your kits and mate.” 

Smiling once again, Joxter stood up straight so he could shrug off his coat, slipping the suspenders off so he could unbutton and remove his shirt—only leaving him in his pants once he managed to finally chuck off his boots. Joxter then crawled onto the bedding of furs, careful as he situated himself as the kits would be right in between him and Snufkin. Once Joxter was satisfied, checking to see if Snufkin was comfortable and hadn’t hurt himself [“I just scooted myself papa, don’t be so worried!”] he was the one to pull the covers over himself and back into place, once again hiding the kits from sight.

The light from outside was going down, meaning the lighting in the den was dimmed now. All things were silent except from the world outside—wind, animals, trees rustling. Joxter basked in his world, silent, far away, the feeling of a kit or two pushing their paws against his stomach, or even wiggling to press themselves up against him for heat and comfort. Besides the ruckus of outside, Joxter could hear Snufkin’s deep breathing, the little squeaks coming from the kits, and wondered if Snufkin could hear the deep purrs coming from Joxter’s chest.

 

* * *

 

**Reference to what my Joxkin kits look like once a bit older:**

**[ _[x](https://yoonbum-in-drag.tumblr.com/post/185570264954/introducing-my-joxkin-kits-a-full-litter-of-six)_ ]**


End file.
